A Single Bullet
by ANiallGirl4Life
Summary: Yassen, 24 years old, lives after getting shot by Cray. When he gets shot, he realizes the true evil in being an assassin. He gets arrested and sent to prision, but he escapes. He wants to stop killing, but SCORPIA won't let him back out. When he gets sent on a mission to kill 22 year old Jasmine Reynolds, will he do it, or will he fall too far in love with her first? Yassen/OC
1. Chapter 1

**OK so I fucking love Alex Rider, but I love Yassen more! :D he's fucking awesome. Oh and in this he's 24 instead of 35. He doesn't look at all 35 in the movie anyway, and his appearance is like it is in the movie.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider**

Yassen's POV

I feel the bullet before I even hear the shot. And all of a sudden my chest feels like it is on fire and I instantly know I am hit. I groan in pain and slump to the plane's floor, clutching my lower chest where the bullet got me, careful not to accidentally push it in more. I do not need that. Luckily, I do not think the bullet went all the way through, I would be dead by now if it did. My hand quickly gets covered in blood, now it is red, wet, and very sticky, coating my fingers, getting in my fingernails. My nostrils fill with the scent of blood, and I close my eyes, and struggle to breathe. I know I am going to die, I am certain of it. I do not know how long it will take to kill me, but soon I will die. Blood loss probably, since the bullet did not kill me right away. I wonder why it did not kill me, it seemed pretty powerful enough to. Maybe Cray's aim was off, maybe he aimed for my heart. That is probably it.

I have had many near death experiences, of course, that is pretty much expected when you are an assassin. The first was the experience with the black widow, back when I was on my first mission. There have been many other times after the black widow incident, but I have managed to escape death each time. This time, I will not, I am certain that Death will be sure of it. The Devil will drag me down to Hell to join him. Lucifer will claim me. I have pissed Death off one too many times and now Death will get his revenge. He can't wait for me to rot down there with him in Hell. To burn in the flames. In agony for all eternity.

I do not look forward to it, but I admit, I will deserve whatever I get. If God decides to let me through His Gates I will be honestly surprised. Lucifer will probably get to me before He can however. That is OK though, I know I will deserve it. I have killed so many people.

I hear another gunshot, wince, and force my eyes open again, expecting to see Alex or the girl, Sabina on the ground, bleeding and dying like I am right now. Actually, I expect to see both on the ground and dying, or perhaps already dead. Cray probably found a way to hit them both with one bullet and is probably standing over us, laughing right this very moment. Two innocent fourteen year olds who have had their lives ripped from them far too early. Cray has won and he knows it.

But when I look up, I do not see the two children dying or dead and Cray sure as hell is not laughing. In fact, both Alex and Sabina are fine. It is Damian Cray who got shot. His eyes are wide and glassy, and he clutches his chest, he was shot a bit higher up then I was, the bullet is more near his heart. He loses his footing and stumbles and Alex leans over and pulls the plane door open. Cray falls to his death below. Alex quickly shuts the door, not wanting anyone else to fall to their death.

Sabina, who was looking away when Cray was shot, hears the door close and looks over at Alex once more. I can hear the very faint sound of his body hitting the ocean, the faint splash it made, I am not even sure how the hell I heard it, but I in fact did. Between the height of the plane, and the bullet, it would be a miracle if he somehow stayed alive. If he did, he would drown, because I doubt he would be able to swim with that bullet in his chest. It would be a major fucking miracle if he were able to somehow swim. So he is dead either way.

Good riddance. Though I fear I will join him shortly. I do not want to go to Hell, but I know that I in fact will. Cray and I will have to put up with each other for all eternity. Unless he somehow made it up to Heaven which I very highly doubt. He was just as fucking evil as I am. Oh well, I can make him pay for shooting me. Got to look on the bright side right?

Right.

Alex and Sabina run over to me. I look at them weakly, barely even able to turn my head. I do not want them to see me die. They are too innocent for that. Sabina looks absoloutly panicked, she has never been in a situation like this, I can tell. She has absoloutly no idea what to do. Alex is a little more used to it and he is in control here, he knows what to do, what is going on. "We need to land the plane, he's hurt!" Alex shouts at Sabina, his tone firm and demanding, leaving no room for argument. She quickly nods and runs to the cockpit to tell the pilot to land us at the nearest hospital and ASAP. I can hear her arguing with the pilot, who seems stubborn as to not changing his flight route. Fucking asshole. I do not even know where we are headed anyway.

Alex kneels down and inspects my wound. I lay my head back on the cold hard ground of the airplane, trying not to let my eyes close. I will surely die if I close them, even for one second. I force myself not to close them, even when they start stinging from not blinking.

"The bullet didn't go in that deep Yassen, as long as we get you to the hospital in time, I think you'll be ok." He tells me, his tone quiet and serious, taking me by surprise, his blue eyes staring into my own. I wonder what my eyes look like to him. Hurt? Glassy? Dying? All three? More than that? Less?

I am surprised the bullet did not go in all the way. It certainly feels like it did.

Finally, I somehow find the ability to speak some. "Why are you saving me?" I croak out, trying hard not to cough up blood. I can feel the taste of it in my throat, it is coming up. I force myself to swallow the stuff, silently gagging at the metallic taste. Alex frowns. "I don't know...I just...well ummm Mr. Blunt said you knew my father and I guess..." He drifts off, uncertain of what to say next. Ah yes, I remember his father, my mentor. He is the one that saved me from the black widow bite. I can not believe he died. I owed him my life. But he died fourteen long years ago. Along with his wife, I think her name might have been Elizabeth. Alex, I believe, was left with his uncle and his uncle's housekeeper. Ian, the one I killed, and Jack. Weird name for a girl to be completely honest. I think Jack is all Alex has left though, I do not know if he has any other family. In fact, I think he is the last Rider, so if he dies, that family is screwed. I do not think my mentor and his wife Elizabeth had any other kids. Also, if something happens to Jack, Alex will be heartbroken. She is all he has left. Same goes for Jack if Alex dies.

I will not let him die though. He is my mentor's son, he will not die. I will not let him.

It is silent, Alex is still tending to my wound, making sure the blood does not go out of control and then Sabina comes running back from the cockpit. "We're landing, we're landing!" She exclaims, her tone taking on a hysterical yet excited edge. "Where are we?" Asks Alex. She shrugs. "Dunno. Hospital obviously, but as for country or state or province or whatever, I dunno. The pilot didn't tell me, he was pissed at me enough as it is, you know, for making him change his flight route. I didn't want to ask, because it would just irritate and piss him off more." She tells him. Alex nods and I realize for the first time just how much he looks like his dad. He skin is the only thing that seems slightly different, he probably got it from his mother. I never met her. However, I am pretty sure he got 90% of his looks though from his father. His hair is even almost the same length, it is just a tad bit longer.

So much resembelance, it almost hurts to look at him.

I feel the plane landing, its wheels touching the ground, and Alex tells Sabina, "Come on, help me lift him up." She nods and comes over to me. They lift me up, but I slowly feel myself slip into unconciousness...

*A Month Later*

I feel my eyes open and find myself in a bright white room. I squint and cringe, but feel a sharp pain in my stomach. "Ow! Fuck!" I cuss under my breath. Once my eyes adjust, I find I am in a hospital room. I frown.

"How did I get here?" I mumble, looking around the room. The door opens and I look up to see a doctor. He looks about fifty, with gray hair, not yet thinning, piercing green eyes, and he's tall and looks just a tad overweight. I see his clipboard and it says he is Doctor Scott Phillips. At least I think that is what it says, my vision is a bit fuzzy. My head hurts too. The doctor seems a bit surprised to see me awake. Well no, not a bit. He is defientely surprised to see me awake. I can tell because his green eyes widen and he has to stop his jaw from dropping. He nearly drops his clipboard, and grips onto it with sweaty hands.

Why? Why is he so surprised? What happened?

"Mr. Gregorovich! I see you are finally awake!" He exclaims, totally forgetting his shock, his green eyes lighting up. I frown. "Finally?" I ask. He nods. "How long have I been out?" I ask curiously. Could it really have been that long?

He sighs, all traces of his earlier happiness gone. "Do you remember being shot?" He asks. I frown a little, not remembering, but it does come back to me in a moment and I nod. "Well, two kids, said their names were Alex and Sabina, both about fourteen, took you to the nearest hospital once the plane you were on landed." He continues. I nod. "Yes I remember that." It was all slowly coming back to me.

"Then you blacked out. We thought you would wake up soon, but you fell into a coma and it's been a month." He tells me. My jaw drops. "A month?!" I ask shrilly, quickly sitting up. Sitting up was a mistake though and I fall back and moan in pain, trying to resist the tempation to touch my wound. I would probably end up just making it hurt more if I touched it. "Take it easy." Dr. Phillips tells me, his tone gentle. "After two weeks of that hospital in France, they transferred you over to this hospital, and you're in England now." Ah ok so we landed in France. Now we are back. That is good news, I suppose.

"Are Alex and Sabina here?" I ask. He nods. "Waiting room. I'll get them." He leaves and I lean back on the pillows. Was I really out for a month? Seriously? I felt like I just woke up from a deep sleep or something. It is then that I realize something.

I have escaped Death. Again. Lucifer is probably Pissed with a capitol P. Looks like I will not be joining the Devil quite yet. The thought relieves me somewhat.

I shiver and I look down and see I have no shirt on. The place where I got shot is all bandaged up and I assume the bullet is out. I guess it is too tender to have any fabric rubbing against it right now. Weird since it has been a month, but maybe my body was "asleep" or something and couldn't heal properly. Well, hopefully it will start healing now. If it does not, then I am kind of fucked.

I hear someone clear their throat and look up. Alex and Sabina are standing there in the doorway. Alex was the one who cleared his throat I bet, it sounded more like a male than a female. I motion for them to come in. I wonder what they are thinking right now. They enter the room and Sabina closes the door behind her. "Are you ok?" Alex asks once they are both near my hospital bed. I nod. "Yeah, I think so. Hurts like hell to try and sit up, but I think I'll be fine." Alex nods and I catch Sabina throw a worried glance at him. What the hell? What was that for?

"What?" I ask her. Surprised, she looks back at me. "What what?" She asks. "Why'd you give Alex that look? Like you were worried about something." I seem to have her trapped and she cringes and looks over at Alex who sighs.

"What's going on?!" I demand, my voice taking on a suspicious edge. Alex looks at me, his eyes begging. Begging for what though? They kind of look like they are begging for forgiveness or something.

"Yassen...ummmm..." He hesitates, not sure if he should tell me or not. "What's wrong?!" I deman again, my voice getting loud. Doctors and nurses open the door to check on me, and I cringe, resisting the temptation to blush. I need to be more quiet. They close the door again thankfully.

Alex takes a deep breath and I look at him, waiting for him to continue. "Yassen, well ummm...Mr. Blunt wants you locked up and in prison."

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	2. Chapter 2

**Back again**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider**

Yassen's POV

I gawk at him. Is the kid SERIOUS?! I am not even fully healed yet! My wound is still open and still healing! I can not believe my own ears, so I try and test him. "What. Did. You. Just. Say?" I hiss through clenched teeth. Regrettfully, Alex slowly nods, confirming my worst fears. "Yeah. He said when you're mostly healed he's going to get some of his agents to haul you off to prision for life."

FUCK! This is not good. What the hell am I going to do now?!

I growl, keeping it quiet and low. "So you're telling me that once I get out of this joint, I'll go straight from this fucking place to the hole? And I'm assuming, I am not even getting a trial or ANYTHING?!" Alex nods again, his eyes sad and regretful. Sabina is quiet, not wanting to inturrupt us. I am probably scaring her. Well I really do not give a fuck about her right now. I am about to rage, but Alex begins to speak once more and I slowly manage to calm myself down. A little bit anyway.

"I'm sorry Yassen. I really am. I tried to talk him out of it. I really did. But he refuses to budge. He wants you off to prision. Behind bars for life. I tried everything I could, thought of everything I could, but it wasn't good enough to convince him to let you go." Alex tells me, his voice low still, not wanting the doctors or nurses to hear. I frown. He talked to Mr. Blunt? When? "When did you talk to him?" I ask. Alex takes a deep breath.

"Last week was the first time he brought it up, talking about how now that you were injured, you'd be vulnerable enough to capture and send off to prision. He told me that he thinks because of your wound, you wouldn't last long behind bars. He thinks you'll die off quick. Which he also said was 'probably for the best.' I tried to talk him out of it then, but he wouldn't listen. He is really determined to get you in prision Yassen. I let it go for awhile, not wanting to irritate him, but then I tried talking to him yesterday too, but he won't budge still. He has made up his mind. I'm sorry." He apologizes again. I can tell he really means it and he really has tried everything he can. I groan and bury my face in my hands. "When am I being released from this place?" I ask, already dreading the answer. My voice is muffled, but he still hears me.

I knew he knew that I was really asking him, "How many more free days do I have?" Because once I get out of this hospital, I will probably never ever see the sun shine again. It will just be darkness for the rest of my life. Until the day I die. That much is clear.

Alex hesitates. I growl at him, growing impatient. "Tell me now boy." I demand, my voice sharp and commanding. He cringes. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sabina wince a bit as well. "Um...well the doctor says if the bullet wound heals properly and if you don't go into another coma you may be ready for release in a minimum of three weeks." He tells me, lowering his eyes to the ground. Oh great. So three more weeks of "freedom" and then life in prision. Joy.

That bullet should have just killed me. It would have been better for everyone. And I would not be in this fucking mess.

Soon Alex and Sabina leave and about half an hour later, the doctor comes in. "Time for your morphine." He tells me. I grimace. I do not like the drowsiness and vulnerable feeling that the morphine gives me. Deep in my heart, I know it resembles the feelings that Blunt wants me to feel while I am in prision. He comes over to my bed and gives the shot containing the morphine to me and after checking my charts and stuff, he leaves, closing the hospital room door behind him. I hear him talking to some people in the hallways, but the morphine quickly makes its way through my system.

I lean back on the stiff, medicine scented, hospital pillow and close my eyes. I am out like a light.

*Three Weeks Later*

To my horror, my wound has been healing fast. Too damned fast for my comfort. Plus, to my disappointment, I have not gone into anymore comas. I thought I would luck out and have to stay in the hospital for about another month or something. I was also walking by myself before we were halfway through the second week and the doctors decided that I was strong enough and did not need any therapy to help my legs (which have never really felt the same after I got shot). Which only means one thing.

I am being released from the hospital tomorrow at noon. Then once I am released, I will automatically go to prision. They are not even giving me a trial. Nope. Mr. Blunt made sure of that. Just right off to prision. A life sentence. Sigh. Out of one hell house only to dive right back into another.

I look up when the doctor comes in with my charts. "Well Mr. Gregorovich, looks like you will be released tomorrow!" He exclaims, his tone bright and cheery, and his eyes lighting up as he looks at me, waiting for my reaction. I sigh internally. Yeah yeah this is the millionth time I have heard this... He seems to realize that I will not respond anytime soon and we lapse into uncomfortable silence.

"How do you feel?" He suddenly asks, breaking the silence, taking out a pen and preparing to write down my condition according to my responses.

For a brief moment, I consider lying. But someone...I am suspecting Mr. Blunt...would somehow find out that I am lying. I do not know how, but knowing him, he would somehow find a way. So I might as well go with the truth. Less hassle for everyone.

"I think I'm fine. I can hardly feel the wound anymore, and I think it's starting to close up more. Almost all the way actually. All I really feel that remind me of the wound is a dull ache in my legs when I stand up for too long. It may go away, but if it doesn't, I'll learn to live with it." Yeah, I will learn to live with it alright, considering the rest of my life is going to be spent sitting and rotting inside a cell. Not much leg power will be required there.

The doctor finishes jotting down his notes and nods as he caps his pen and puts it in the breast pocket of his coat. "I will send in Alex..." Alex visits so often now almost everyone in the hospital knows him by name, "To help get your stuff together. It was a pleasure having you here Yassen."

I gasp, but the doctor does not hear me, to my relief.

Yassen. It was the first time he has ever called me Yassen. It was always "Mr. Gregorovich" or if he was talking to other doctors or nurses, "The patient." He has never called me by my first name before. Ever.

I do not know why, but I feel an odd ache in my chest. Odd, but I immediately know what the feeling is. I never knew friendship. Or any relationship with anyone really. But this doctor and I, I can tell, have formed a bond during these last three weeks. I think he and Alex are really my only friends. But that will all stop once I am hauled to prision. Alex will see me for the real monster I am and I am sure I will never see this doctor ever again.

Everything happens for a reason.

Just then, Alex comes into the room and I look up. "Hi...umm ready to pack?" He asks. I can tell he feels awkward being here. I do not blame him. I nod in response to his question, but first excuse myself to go into the restroom so I can put on regular clothes. This stupid hospital dress thing is a disgrace.

I change into sweatpants and a white teeshirt that hangs loosely. I do not want it to cling and hurt my wound. Sadly, I realize that these will probably be the last clothes I ever wear before it is jumpsuit orange for the rest of my life. Sighing, I go out and meet Alex. When I come out, I notice that the doctor has left the room and Alex and I are the only ones here.

"I really am sorry Yassen. I still couldn't convince him even after three weeks." Alex speaks quietly as we pack. I nod and do not say anything, I just keep packing. "Yassen?" He asks. I stop packing and look at him.

"What?"

"Ummm...this is a stupid question, but...how well did you know my father?" He asks. I sigh, somehow expecting a question like this.

"I was sent on that mission as a young boy. I was only about ten or so at the time. I was in training with the SCORPIA and your father, who was twenty four, was my mentor. We were sent to asssassinate someone who lived deep in the rainforest." I pause for a minute, a thoughtful expression coming across my face.

"No, I take that back. He killed the man. I just had to watch, to know what I had to do in the future, for I would learn to do that stuff when I was about fourteen or so." I am about to continue, but Alex inturrupts me. "You were only ten. How did you find SCORPIA?" He asks. I sigh.

"My mother died giving birth to me. My father moved us to Italy when I was just two. He worked for SCORPIA back then. When I was eight, they sent him on a mission. I stayed with a nanny that the people of SCORPIA set up for me. But I never saw him again after he walked out the door to our apartment. He failed the mission and the leader of SCORPIA shot a bullet to his brain. He died and then SCORPIA took me in. I was training with them ever since and that mission with your father was the first one I had ever been on." I take a deep breath after letting all that out. I have never told anyone this before. Ever.

Alex's eyes are wide and I study his expression. He looks sad, hurt, anger, but his expression also holds...pride? "What?" I ask him. Now confused, he looks up at me. "You're feeling pride for me. Why?" I ask. This boy was quite puzzling. Why would he feel pride for a cold blooded killer?

"Because of everything you've been through Yassen. You've been through so much and yet you're still so strong. So I feel pride and admire you for it." He explains. Ah, ok I see. I nod and he smiles, but it soon fades when he asks. "So, there is another reason you admired my father so much, I can tell. Why?" He asks. I take another deep breath and continue.

"Well, your father was about to shoot the man, but then I felt something on my neck. Slowly, I looked down and I saw a spider. At first I didn't recognize it, but after a couple seconds I realized it was a black widow. Remember that I was ten. So I didn't know what to do or how to get it off. I let out a sharp gasp and your father looked back at me. I could tell he was horrified. He was trying to decide whether to shoot his target or get the black widow off me. In the end, he ended up doing both. To this day, I don't know how or why he did it, but of course I am forever grateful. Then he died about two months later, shortly after you were born. I was devastated." I explain, letting it all out at once again.

Alex's jaw drops and I brace myself for his reaction. "So...my father saved your life?" He asks, his tone slightly disbelieving. I nod. "Yes." His eyes widen. "OhMiGod...now I know...Yassen, I am so sorry!" He exclaims. I sigh. "I wouldn't be here now if I weren't working for SCORPIA." I tell him. He frowns.

"Why are you still working for them?" Asks Alex. "Well..." I hesitate slightly to tell him. He frowns and in a firm, demanding voice, he commands, "Tell me now Yassen."

I nod. "Alright..." I'm trying to think of how to tell him. Five minutes go by before I finally take a deep breath and tell him. "I would. But they killed the last guy when he tried to walk out on them. So I can't. I'd rather serve a lifetime in prision than be killed by those assholes."

Alex's eyes widen. "They killed the guy?!" He asks, his voice caked in disbelief. I nod. "Sadly, yes." I tell him. He growls. "They can't do that!"

"Well they do." I point out. I realize we have not finished packing and I reach for one of my shirts when he moves to block my hand. I look at the boy curiously. "What is it?" I ask. What is he doing now? He already knows everything.

"Yassen, I have an idea as to how you can stay away from prision." He says lowly, careful in making sure no one can hear us. My eyes widen and I am instantly interested. I lean closer. "Tell me." I command. Could he possibly have a way?

He looks around, making sure no one is near and leans over to whisper. "I have broken out of cells before Yassen. I think I can break you out." He whispers. My eyes widen as I look at him. "Are you sure?" I ask. He nods. "How?" I ask.

"Well, you may have to stay in the prision for a few days. A week at the most. Just to make sure the guards think you won't try anything." He starts explaining. Slowly, I nod. A week in prision. I can do that. Easy. "What else?" I ask him.

"Well, guards usually take shifts right. Usually there're about three shifts. Six A.M-two P.M., three P.M.-eleven P.M., and then from twelve A.M.-six A.M." He pauses and looks at me. I frown.

"You skipped an hour each time though." I say slowly. His eyes brighten and he nods. "Yeah. They have an hour for meals. So there's a break between the times there're guards on duty."

My eyes light up. "So, you think you can get me out?" I ask. Alex nods. "Yeah. I think so. I'll do it on a day where Jack has to run lots of errands or something."

I am about to grin, but pause. "Well, wouldn't people recognize me?" I ask, my voice taking on a worried tone. Alex pauses, his expression thoughtful. "Well I have some contact lenses from missions that Blunt has sent me on. Different shades of green, blue and brown. And I bet we have some hair dye hanging around somewhere in the house. Jack loves to mess with her hair."

I nod. "Alright. But where will I go? I can't hang here in this same city. Hell, I don't even think I can stay around in England."

Alex looks up. "I have some fake IDs at my house as well thanks to past missions and Mr. Blunt showing me how to create realistic looking fake IDs. When we bust you out and go back to my place for your 'makeover' then I'll show you the IDs, you can pick one, and we'll take a picture of you to put on the ID. Sound good?" He asks. I grin and nod. "Thank you Alex." I tell him gratefully. He smiles. "No problem. You knew my father Yassen. We're practically family."

*A Week Later*

I have been in prison for about six days now. Second floor, third wing, cell B. It is OK I guess. I put up with the food. The guards do not bother me as long as I stay on their good side. The jumpsuits are irrittating though. Not comfortable. Plus we have to wear them when we sleep too.

Although I do not really care. Alex is breaking me out. Tonight. He is going to be here at eleven and right when the bell rings signifying the break, he is going to bust me out. Thank God.

I have decided that after I get my fake ID and Alex and I come up with a story for myself, I am going to Italy. It is quite far from here, I doubt anyone would ever find me there.

It is almost eleven P.M. now. I sigh and sit on my cot. The guard looks over at me, but his gaze does not linger. He does not suspect anything. Good.

Finally, FINALLY the bell signaling the break rings. The guard grins and lays his gun against the wall. I roll my eyes. Yeah, that sure as hell is safe. Idiot.

Not even two minutes later, I hear Alex saying, "Pull me up!" And I look out the window. He is gripping onto the ledge with his hands and the ladder he used has fallen so if he falls, he will die. There are bars on the windows, but they are set far apart and I easily get Alex through.

"Good! I really wish we could just get you through the window, but I think you're just a little too big." He whispers. I nod and watch as he goes over to the cell door. He picks the lock with just a paperclip. Smart kid. I wonder if his uncle taught him that or if he learned it after going into MI6.

The door swings open, surprisingly not creaking for once. Thank God, it usually always creaks. Alex and I quietly sneak into the hall. We walk down the hall, being careful to hide in the shadows. Once we get to the stairs, we go down very slowly for one single creak could give us away. We make it down successfully, but we find yet another obstacle in our path.

We must get past the cafeteria.

Alex looks at me panicked. I look back at him and I bet my face has the exact same expression. "What are we going to do?" I mouth. He shrugs, but looks around. I glance nervously at the cafeteria doors. If we get caught...

No. I do not even want to think about what would happen.

I watch as Alex's eyes land on something. "What do you see?" I ask, being sure to keep my voice at a level that is barely even a whisper. He points to a metal door. It must be a back door! I grin and he grins back and we run to it. I hold my breath as Alex tries to open it, praying it will be unlocked.

It is!

We run outside and Alex quietly shuts the door. Would not want anyone hearing the door close and getting suspicious. We take off again and he leads me to his house and we go up to his room.

"Freedom." I sigh as we finally reach our destination. Gasping, obviously tired from the running, Alex nods. "Yeah." He says. I sigh and just let my heart slow to normal for a minute. I can tell Alex is doing the same.

After a few more minutes, Alex sitts up. I do the same and look at him. His gaze meets mine. "Ready to create your new self Yassen?" He asks.

Slowly, I nod.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Back again, oh and I made up Yassen's birthday.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider**

Yassen's POV

"Wait right here Yassen. I'm going to go see if I can find where Jack put her hair products and all her other stuff. She'll have lots of stuff that can help us with your transformation." Alex tells me as he leaves his room, closing the door behind him. I nod, but he does not see so I just sigh and sit on the edge of the bed. Nervously, I glance out the window. Have the guards noticed that I am not in my cell yet?

Surely they have. If not, then they are most defientely about to. The eating break hour is almost up. Just about ten more minutes or so. Then the bell or whatever will ring signifying the end of the break, the guards will go back to their shifts and they will realize that I am missing.

I continue to stare out the window, praying I do not see cop cars or flashing red and blue lights, and I do not hear the bedroom door open or Alex come back into his room. "Yassen?" He asks, his voice taking me by surprise. I jump and look over at him, trying hard not to blush. Frantically, I try to slow my heartbeat back to normal and get my breathing slowed down too. "What were you doing?" He asks, setting the hair spray and other hair products and stuff on his desk. I hesitate, but his stare makes me break down and tell him.

"I was nervous that the police would be coming or something. I was wondering if they have noticed that I'm not in my cell yet, since their eating hour will be over in about ten minutes." I admit. Alex nods. "Yeah, I understand." He replies.

I look over at the cans of hair dye and hair spray and the other stuff he has. Hats, glasses, contacts, you name it, Alex has got it. Or I guess, JACK has got it, it is her stuff after all. He sees me staring at the pile and goes over to the hair dye. "Midnight black, sandy brown, dark brown, so blonde it's almost white, dark red, or fire engine red?" He asks. I think about it for a minute before replying, "Dark brown."

Alex nods. Picking up the bottle with the dark brown dye in it, I expect him to come over to me and start transforming my hair from ginger to dark brown. But instead he just sets the bottle next to me. I look at him curiously. He looks at me, but does not say a word, just goes back to his stack of stuff and grabs a pair of scissors that I did not notice.

This causes me to raise my eyebrows.

"I'm getting a haircut?" I ask in surprise. "Just a slight one. Maybe half an inch off the top and some off the sides. Just so it's harder to recognize you." He explains. I nod.

He comes over to me with the scissors, but before I let him cut my hair, I hold my hand up to stop him for a moment. "How'd you get that stuff? Where's Jack?" I ask. "She went bowling with some friends and I think afterwards they're going to a movie. Don't worry, we have time." He assures me. I nod and motion for him to come forward. I close my eyes as he starts to cut away my hair. Please God, please do not make it look too bad.

I normally trust Alex, but hell, I am letting a FOURTEEN year old cut my hair no matter how much I trust him! It is kind of scary to be honest. I mean, a fourteen year old with sharp scissors near my neck? No thank you. I will gladly pass, thank you very much.

A few minutes later, though it has felt like hours, I hear the cutting of the scissors stop. Finally! I admit I am somewhat scared to see what this boy has done to my hair. Has he completely fucked it up?

"Yassen, you can open your eyes now." Alex tells me. I am somewhat scared, but slowly, I open them. I look around for a mirror, but do not see one. "Mirror?" I ask him. He goes over to his junk pile of stuff he got from the girl Jack's room and after putting the scissors back, rustles around for a bit before finally pulling out a handheld mirror. He then gives it to me. I close my eyes as I feel the mirror being put in my hand and hold my breath.

After a minute or so, I slowly let out my breath and open my eyes to look at the mirror.

I study my reflection. Surprisingly, it is not too bad. I actually look ok. The sides are a little shorter and there is a little less on the top. Alex did a good job.

Once I am done looking at my reflection, I give the mirror back to Alex. He goes and puts it-I am assuming back in Jack's room-then comes back to me. "Did you like it?" He aks. I nod. "It looks great Alex, really."

He smiles then goes to grab the dark brown dye and comes over to me. He squirts it in my hair and massages it so that the dye covers all of my hair.

"It may take some time to dry." Alex informs me. "Alright." I reply, being careful not to nod or do anything that would mess up the dye and my hair. I expect him to go and get something for the next part of my "makeover", but the thing he gets next surprises me.

"A Q-tip?" I ask. He nods. "We need to dye your eyebrows." He points out. "Oh ok." He dips the Q-tip in the brown dye and comes over to me. I close my eyes and I feel him smearing the dye across my eyebrows.

About five minutes later, I hear him say, "Ok, you can open your eyes, the dye on the eyebrows is almost dry." And I obediantly open them.

Next, after throwing away the used Q-tip and putting the brown hair dye away, he goes and gets the contacts. He brings back various shades of blues, greens, browns, grays, and even different shades of hazel.

"Pick one." He commands. After looking over the selection, I go with a pair of forest green contacts and carefully place them in. Alex then steps back to admire his work.

"Hmmm...looking good Yassen. Ok, we will make your fake ID and then I can help you pack your stuff to go to Italy." He tells me. "Pack my stuff?" I ask curiously, scratching the back of my neck. Alex nods. "Yeah...Uncle Ian's closet is still full, we got rid of the furniture, but his clothes are still there." He tone is hushed and I can tell he is saddened and I cringe. I deeply regret killing the boy's uncle. He was the only family Alex had. Of course, I did not know that at the time that I killed Ian, but still.

"I truly am sorry Alex." I tell him. He shakes his head. "It's ok. Uncle Ian's been dead for almost a year now. I think it's time to move on." Still, I can detect the hurt in his voice and I am saddened. However, he quickly brightens up when he grabs the ID card we will use.

"Picture first or coming up with your story?" He asks. " My story. Hopefully by the time we're done, the dye will be dry and we can take the picture." He nods and grabs a pen and pencil.

"Name?" He asks. I sit in thought for awhile. What would be a good name? Hmmm...something that sounds much different than Yassen Gregorovich.

"Richard Stevenson." I finally say after much thought. He nods and jots it down on his paper. "Age?" He asks. Better not go with my exact age. Something a little different.

"26." I reply. Nodding, he writes it down. "Birthday?"

Lets see...my real birthday is January 21st 1988. So, what would a good false birthday be?

"How about...June 6th 1986?" I suggest. "Good. The month and day isn't too close to your actual birthday." Alex murmurs to himself as he writes it down.

"Now...family?" He asks. I cringe. This is something I have to be really careful about. I do not want anyone to try and track down my so called "family" and find absoloutly nothing about them.

"Only child. Dad died in a car accident when I was ten and mother died two years ago from breast cancer. Never met any grandparents or great grandparents, they all died when I was little. No close aunts or uncles, but I do have a cousin I met once that lives in Spain." I decide. "Spain?" Alex asks. I nod and think some more. "He recently moved from Russia to Spain because he likes the culture and has lived there for a couple months, but aside from a few emails once or twice a year, and that one visit, we don't talk much." I tell him. Alex furiously writes down everything I say and I watch as he does so. He is like an interviewer.

"Ok, what about YOUR background?" He asks. I have to be careful here too, but I decide my story quickly.

"I was born in the USA, but my mother was Russian and moved us to Russia when I was barely a year old so she could be close to her sick and dying mother who ended up dying six months after we moved in. Mom had her cremated and threw her ashes into a lake. We never left Russia and growing up, I developed a Russian accent. When I was ten, Dad was coming home from work in his car and it was snowy. He hit some black ice and swerved off the road and into a tree. He died instantly. Mom was devasted and moved us into a small apartment, but we were still in Russia. She never remarried, or ever had a boyfriend, and I moved out when I was eighteen to go to college in the USA. I stayed there for four years, but never really lost my accent. When I was twenty two, Mom developed breat cancer and I went to take care of her. She fought it for two years, but she ended up dying and I had her cremated and her ashes scattered in the same lake where my grandma's ashes are." I decide. Alex writes it all down word by word. "Anything else?" He asks. I think for a moment then nod.

"I continued to live in the apartment that Mom and I lived in, for another two years, but I never got a job. Finally, I decided I want to get away from Russia and find a job elsewhere which is how I will end up in Italy. I tell him. He finishes up his writing and caps the pen. "Done." He announces. He then goes over to the computer and copies everything he needs to and puts it on the ID. With the rest of the stuff, he prints it out and hands it to me. "Personal papers in case anyone asks or you get a job. Now, time for the picture and your ID will be set."

Thank God. The sooner I board a plane to Italy, the better.

Alex grabs a camera and I follow him into a room with blank walls, no carpet, and no furniture. This must have been Ian's room. He takes a picture and I try my best to smile, but I have not smiled in a long time so it is hard. He puts it on the ID-damn this kid is smart-and hands me it. "Are we done?" I ask.

"Almost." Alex replies. "What else is there?" I ask, puzzled.

"Packing." Oh yeah, I forgot about that stuff. Well hopefully we can get it done soon.

"I'll be right back." He tells me. He goes out of the room and I hear a door open. Two minutes later, I hear Alex grunt and something thump on the ground. I get up, about to go help him, but he comes back with a big black suitcase before I get a chance to really move. Slowly, I sit back on the bed.

"What size are you?" He asks as he goes over to the closet. I tell him my size in shirts, pants, and shoes and he opens the closet doors and begins to fish through the clothes. I watch him as he does so. Sometimes, he will throw a shirt or a pair of pants or another article of clothing in the general direction of the suitcase. About twenty minutes later, he is done and turns to look at what I have got.

There are a good amount of shirts, long and short sleeved, and pants, casual and formal. A couple shorts, but I am not really a shorts wearer. There are also some shoes and pajamas and even two hats and a pair of sunglasses. I begin to put the stuff in the bag and Alex wanders into the attached bathroom. He comes back not even a minute later with a clean toothbrush, a comb, a full thing of toothpaste, and a razor and shaving cream.

"The toothbrush and razor haven't been used, Uncle Ian bought them, but he was sent on the mission and then died so he never got a chance to use them. The tub of toothpaste is full and so is the container of shaving cream because he bought new packs the same time he bought the tooth brush and razor." He informs me as he puts the stuff in a bag. I nod and then glance over at my papers and ID. "What are we going to do with those?" I ask, pointing to them.

Alex stops the packing-I have just realized this is the second time he has ever helped me pack-and runs a hand through his blonde hair. "There should be a binder in my desk drawer. It used to be Uncle Ian's and I found it, the people who moved all the furniture accidentally left it behind. Dropped it I guess. It's empty, you can use it for the papers if you want." He tells me.

I nod and wander into his room. I see his desk, but there are four drawers. "Which drawer?" I call to him. "Middle one, closer to the bottom!" He shouts back. I open the lower middle drawer and sure enough I see a dark brown binder. I grab it and head back into the other bedroom. "This one?" I ask Alex. He looks at it briefly before nodding. "Yes, that's the one."

Good.

I set the binder on the bed and open it before grabbing the papers, being sure not to wrinkle them or anything. I carefully put the papers inside and close and latch the binder before putting it in the suitcase, right on top. That way, it will be easier to get to if I ever need to use those papers.

"Now...do you have a wallet?" Alex asks. I nod. "But it has some stuff in it." I inform him. He frowns. "Let me see." He demands. I take my wallet from my pocket and hand it to him. He opens it and starts looking through it.

"Hmmm...one hundrerd dollars...good saving money...and your driver's license, credit card, and passport. Trash the license, credit card, and passport. You can get a new passport at the airport and you can retake the driver's test in Italy and get a new driver's license. You can also buy a new credit card and start a new plan." He orders.

I nod and look around for a place to toss the passport, credit card and driver's license. "Bury them at the bottom of the trash can, I take the trash out tomorrow anyway." Alex informs me, pointing at the trashcan. I nod and take the stuff to the trash, being extra careful to bury them so they can not be seen. I get up and dust my hands off my jeans and look up at Alex.

I see the suitcase is all packed except one outfit. Light blue jeans and a gray sweatshirt with white socks and white tennis shoes. "Why aren't those packed up?" I ask, pointing to the outfit. Alex looks briefly at the outfit and back at me. "Have you forgotten you're in an orange jumpsuit Yassen? Are you seriously going to leave in that?" He asks, rolling his eyes.

"Oh!" I exclaim, giving myself a facepalm. "Duh." I mutter. He smirks a bit and I glare at him as I take the outfit into the bathroom. I change quickly and make sure my hair is not messed up from changing before going back out. Alex grins when he sees me. "Much better." He tells me.

"Do I look different?" I ask. I blink, still trying to get used to the contacts and my now green eyes. Alex nods. "Very!" He exclaims. I grin.

"Now, what do I do with these?" I ask, holding out my clothes. He frowns. "We should take those down to the laundry room. I'll take them down, you stay put." I nod and hand him the clothes and watch as he walks out the door.

Alex's POV

I take the clothes downstairs into our main floor laundry room. I bury them beneath all my clothes and quickly throw the pile into the washer. Jack will be happy that I started the laundry early. After mine and Yassen's clothes are done, I will do hers. I leave the laundry basket down in the laundry room and run back upstairs.

Just then, I hear Jack's car pull into the driveway.

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